Protecting the Past
by smileyanne
Summary: There's another baddie with a gun coming after them. And as much as they may want to, they both know neither will run and hide. Not when a sadistic game of chess is ripping apart the past that-despite everything-they both hold so dear. My tag to Check. Rated for extreme language. And isn't necessarily slash but can be taken however you want.


_a/n: I don't know how I feel about this, but after Check I needed some of these two together. And I wanted to get it out before Cabin Fever aired,_

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS_

* * *

He ends up searching the whole damn building for him, before he remembers to look in the most obvious of places. Immediately he gives himself a headslap in the privacy of the elevator he was riding, now that he thought of it-it should've been the first place he looked.

Instead, for close to an hour and half, he's been skulking around the building in a thinly veiled panic. Luckily for himself, no one had noticed, the one man that would've; was the person he was trying to hunt down.

_'Hunt,'_ he didn't like that term, he thought as he stalked down the right corridor. It hit far too close to home on too many levels. He knew he was in the right spot, but he would have to play a guessing game to find just the right room.

Without pausing to make a theatric game of it; he walked into the first observation room he came across.

The room was dark, no technicians, no light, no _anything._ And looking at the one-way mirror into the room across from him, he saw that that room was dark too. Which was unusual, even when not in use it was standard procedure to leave interrogation lighted. It simply made it easier if you didn't have to worry about turning on the lights when bringing in a big, bad, baddie.

But in this instance, it made_ perfect_ sense.

He left the room quickly. Trying the door for interrogation right beside him, he wasn't surprised to find it locked. Without preamble, he dug into his coat pocket for the necessary keys he was issued for the NCIS building as an SFA.

Interrogation rooms locked both ways, but lead agents and their senior field agents were granted access keys. While Probie's and the other grunts had to wait for a higher ranking agent to come and let them in; he could simply jiggle a key a few times, and…..

The heavy door creaked open easily for him.

He stepped inside, and made sure to shut the door behind him. Since he couldn't hear anything, he waited by the door until his sight adjusted to the darkness surrounding him. Making his way around the table and chairs in front of him was muscle memory, and without incident he crossed to the other side of the room….

_There,_ though he hadn't doubted himself, it was kind of a weird thing; getting it right on the first try. Though he shouldn't have been surprised, after so many years, he'd developed his own radar as to this man's whereabouts.

Looking down, he saw the form of the man he'd been searching for. He'd apparently chosen to forgo the use of the two chairs or the table in the room, instead torturing himself by sitting on the cold floor. His back pressed tightly against the wall.

He sighed, and without a second thought; lowered himself down on the floor too. He was acutely reminded of just how old he was getting when his joints protested weakly, and it didn't help when the bitter thought that McGee would have no trouble with sitting down on the floor, entered his mind.

He ignored it though, and settled himself down beside the man. His back leaning against the wall too, he turned his head to face him-

"Gibbs."

"DiNozzo," he replied after a moment, his usually quiet voice was rough and he kept his cold blue eyes staring straight ahead.

"Your knee's gonna kill you if you keep sitting down here." Tony said tossing a cursory glance at the indicated knee. He knee it was futile to tell Gibbs this, and he knew-whether the man liked it or not-he would need help when he eventually decided to get up. And he _would_ get up, as much as he would like _(some days)_ to keep Gibbs locked in a windowless room for his own damn protection...

The man would never consent to that, and Tony had given up that argument long ago in favor of just sticking around for the ride.

"Your back's gonna hurt. There's a table and chairs for a reason," Gibbs shot back evenly. Tony had to resist the urge to chuckle at the thought of what the others would think of them for this. Ducky would understand, Abby would coo over their aches and pains and viciously deny that her favorites were getting older. While McGee would tease him unmercifully if he ever found out his increasing age, and Bishop….._well_, he didn't know what Bishop would do.

"Better yet," Gibbs continued, and Tony knew what was coming before he even said it, "You could just get the hell out of here."

DiNozzo was reminded of the day he watched Gibbs try to hold it together in the men's restroom, his only words being a pathetic offer of help. But that was years ago, things had changed; people had left in more ways than one. _And_….he and Gibbs had duked it out a few times too many since then to pretend everything was still the same.

"Hypocrite," he accused lightly, "Thanks for the offer, but I'm pretty comfortable right here." Just to rub it in, he made a big motion of 'getting comfortable'. He saw Gibbs scowl, but otherwise didn't deem his reply with a response of his own.

"How did you find me?" His voice was serious (but when was the last time did Tony ever remember Gibbs not being serious?).

He snorted smugly, trying his best to stick to his usual methods. "Wasn't that hard," he crowed, "I know how you think."

While true, his mind had been a little full of thoughts of,_ 'Oh God he's gone after him alone again. Oh God he's gone after him alone again. Oh God he's gone after him alone again.'_ To properly utilize the knowledge he'd gathered about the man beside him over the years. If he'd been more rational about it, Tony knew for sure that interrogation would have been the first place he looked.

Abby's lab was too….._pitying._

Bullpen too…_crowded._

Autopsy too….._personal._

But interrogation? Interrogation was Gibbs' goddamn_ domain._ Not_ observation,_ that wasn't Gibbs. When Gibbs entered _this_ room he was on top of everything.

When Gibbs entered this room….he _couldn't_ loose.

In a robotic gesture, Gibbs checked the watch on his wrist. "Took you ninety minutes this time."

"Yeah, well I was little worried you were out having dinner with Sergei somewhere." His voice was dry, and he didn't bother elaborating; he knew Gibbs would remember the day he'd stalked into the bullpen after voluntarily going to meet Ari Haswari.

"If I'm having dinner with Sergei, it'll be with his corpse."

Gibbs voice was cold as ice, and a shudder crept down Tony's spine. This wasn't the first time he'd seen his Boss like this, and every time he hoped it would be the last. Last time, he'd shielded McGee the best he could from what was going to happen. This time, it would be Bishop who got the brunt of his protection.

His eyes slid shut, and he let his head rest back against the wall, "That's very Hannibal Lector of you Boss."

"You know what I meant."

"Yeah. I've got one question for you," his voice was intentionally meek, "When you see yourself at this dinner. Is it just you? This gonna be another Dearing Boss? Or how about another Haswari?-"

He didn't get to continue with his questions. He didn't even get to finish his sentence, because he could feel Gibbs moving. He cracked his eyes open and he straightened up….

In the dark, Gibbs eyes burned him.

"Stop DiNozzo," he warned.

Tony wondered why he even bothered asking this man questions anymore. Not when, nine times out of ten, he could anticipate the answer he was going to get before he even got it. And it was because of that foresight that his voice was no longer meek, and-he hoped-his eyes were burning Gibbs right back.

"So, alone then?" When Gibbs didn't respond, just turned his head around like a stubborn little kid. DiNozzo let out a bitter chuckle, "So I take that as a _'yes'_?"

"Your damn right I'm doing this alone," Gibbs growled ferociously. Tony liked to think about what any other agent's response would've been to that. They probably would've pissed their pants by now, but it fueled Tony's anger even more.

"God, I don't even know why I try with you anymore?!" He almost shouted, his tone derisive. "You're gonna do whatever the hell you want anyway. Even if gets you killed-"

"Remember I'm your Boss DiNozzo," Gibbs said tightly.

"I don't give a damn if you're the fucking Pope,"_ 'Sorry Kate,'_ he thought briefly, and made sure to take a breath. It wouldn't do any good if he gave himself a stroke before he got the reaction he wanted, "You won't be for much longer. You don't even try anymore Gibbs. You just let yourself go into danger headfirst, making stupid decisions-"

"Stop."

Tony ignored him.

"And for years I've tried to stop you. But I'm not going to be the one there to protect your idiotic back when Sergei puts a bullet through your brain. Because clearly that's what you've been aiming for all these years-"

The dam burst.

Before he could blink, strong hands were pushing at DiNozzo's shoulders. His back hit the floor roughly, and his vision swam when his head cracked against the solid ground. He didn't try to get up, didn't even try to fight back…

Because Gibbs was punching the crap out of him.

Knees on either side of him, a hard fist hit his nose. Hit his cheek, his mouth, even brushed his eye. DiNozzo didn't fight, didn't flinch, didn't move. Above him Gibbs was in an unchecked rage, his face red and pulsing as far as Tony could see in the dark.

He wondered if this is what Sergei had seen. When Gibbs was on top of him, hands around his throat, strangling the life out of him. He wondered if Sergei had tried to fight back, or had simply allowed his minions to defend him.

Ari, at least, had had the decency to shoot at Gibbs himself.

Eventually, the punches stopped. They didn't stagger out, or get weaker in strength, one moment Gibbs was beating him and the next he wasn't. It was as simple as that.

Above him, Gibbs was looking at him with horror written all over his features. Tony was sure he was a sight, even to Gibbs' weak eyes. Slowly, he moved the hand that wasn't pinned, and gently prodded at his features.

His lips, both of them, were busted. His left cheek was swollen, and both his eyes were pulsing in that way the said he was going to have two wicked black eyes. But nothing was broken, not even a chipped tooth. In the blind rage he'd induced him into, Gibbs had still pulled his punches.

"You done?" He mumbled thickly through a mouthful of blood. Gibbs was still straddling him, and Tony was reminded strongly of a hot day in Israel when it had been someone else on top of him. The situations were different though. She, had taken him down on her own, without his consent.

He knew Gibbs _(better than the man knew himself),_ Gibbs would never hurt a member of his team purposely like this. Tony had, with full knowledge of what he was doing, brought this on himself.

Quite literally, considering Gibbs was still frozen on top of him. His eyes were wide with shock, and suddenly Tony was doubting himself on his decision.

"Gibbs?" His fingers were trembling when he reached up and touched the other man's shoulder. He remember, quite vividly, the day he'd pressed a cloth to that shoulder after Ari's shot. And he remembered Gibbs' question-

_"Did I get him?"_

Now, his voice was quiet, in a way entirely different than it had been back then.

"Tony…._what did you let me do?"_

"I'm okay," he promised, "Nothing broken. Not even my nose." Gibbs didn't seem to be listening to him, he was scrambling off of him the best he could in the cramped space. Tony took the hand he offered and together they got him in his former position against the wall. By the aches he was feeling, the biggest casualty of Gibbs' rage would be his back.

Hell, after so many years of headslaps and concussions, the crack to his head hadn't even hurt.

Gibbs was in front of him, untucking his polo. Tony watched silently as he pulled at the hem of his white undershirt, ripping off a good strip of it. With nimble fingers he folded the white cloth into a thick pad and pressed it against Tony's bleeding nose. It wasn't broken, but he would have a pretty nasty nosebleed for a while.

Tony breathed through his mouth.

"Gibbs," he tried to get his attention, but his cobalt blue eyes were singularly focused on stopping the flow of blood coming from his nose. "Boss." He tried again.

Finally, "Jethro!"

That got his attention, and he realized that he had never, not once, called Gibbs by his first name. To his face that is. Years ago during Gibbs' longest absence to date, he'd gotten in the habit of referring to Gibbs by his first name with Jenny. But, not ever, had he said his name to his face.

Gibbs eyed him stonily, but it was lacking…._some_…of it's earlier deadness. And for that, Tony would take a million beatings from the man. If only, it put that one, brief, faltering, flicker of a _spark_ back in his eyes.

"Finally," he mumbled the best he could and still it have it understandable, "Stop looking at me like that. You didn't hurt me."

"I could of."

"I wouldn't of let you."

That was a lie, and the both knew it. If Tony thought it could've possibly saved Gibbs….He would've endured what he needed to, and then been grateful for it afterwards.

Sometimes it amazed even him (Mr. Two Year Man) the extent of his loyalty to this man. Kate had called it hero worship. Ziva had called it jealously. McGee called it envy. But Tony and Gibbs, the only two who mattered, knew it for what it was.

"Why the hell did you let me do this in the first place?" Gibbs exclaimed, indicating his bloodied face. He folded the cloth again, and pushed a clean spot against Tony's top lip. And Tony didn't miss the way his hands shook, or the shame that hooded his eyes when he noticed Tony's blood on his knuckles.

His blood on his knuckles, Diane's _(Kate's)_ on his face.

This was all_ so_ fucked up.

"Because you needed it," Gibbs pressed once more against his lips, then discarded the cloth. He tried to, discreetly, wipe his knuckles on his pants legs. He wouldn't look at Tony again.

"I didn't meant the things I said," Tony whispered through swollen lips, their own version of an acceptable apology. "I mean you are an idiot-"

"You were right," Gibbs interrupted quietly.

"No," Tony shot back instantly, shaking his head insistently, "I wasn't." He couldn't of been right. He absolutely, positively _refused_ to even entertain the idea that he might've been even an_ ounce_ of right.

_Why?_ Because he'd basically accused Gibbs of being recklessly suicidal. If Tony entertained the idea for even a second that he had been right, then he might have to look closer at things that were better left alone and unsaid.

Gibbs looked at him then, his blue eyes reading the emotions plainly off of his bloodied face. He nodded once, conceding to give Tony what he needed now that he'd given Gibbs what he needed-

"Yeah. I guess so. Though you should've been right about a few parts." It was sad, almost tedious, how Tony immediately understood what he meant by the inflection in his words alone. In Gibbs' opinion, he didn't deserve to have his_ 'stupid idiotic back'_ guarded by a far _too_ loyal senior field agent.

DiNozzo, just so happened to have a different opinion on that matter.

"This time you aren't goin' without me Boss." He said as firmly as he could. It sounded weak coming from his lips, but the resolve behind the words was stone hard.

Gibbs closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cool metal walls. Tony observed the pinch in his brow, and the tension in his shoulders. "You havin' a migraine Boss?"

Of course, he didn't have to ask-he knew. It was predictable and easily readable in his every contour. Gibbs sighed, opening his eyes; Tony could've sworn he saw a shadow pass over his face, but…then again…they were in a dark room.

"Tony. You can _not_ be there."

"You know, I know how to get rid of your migraines." Tony continued in his typical fashion-ignoring what had been said previously. Referring back lightheartedly to the story McGee had told him; not realizing the mistake he was making.

"Don't," Gibbs said firmly, "I'm fine." He said, though Tony could see his right eye starting to droop slightly._ "You can not be there."_

"McGee told me about finding you and Rebecca a few nights ago-"

"DiNozzo," he warned half-heartedly. In front of the others, he may put up a good front of putting DiNozzo in his place when it came to his personal questions into Gibbs' life. But when alone….he'd given up that fight ages ago.

"Don't believe anything happened," Tony said casually; raising his arm slowly, he placed his hand on the back of his own neck and rubbed the base lightly. Holding eye contact with Gibbs, until the older man mimicked his movements. "She was the one you started havin' the migraines with, right? So I guess she knew how to get rid of them. Like I said, don't believe anything happened between you too. Considering she's been through rehab and is getting married."

Gibbs didn't ask how he knew these things, and Tony was thankful for that. He didn't really want to go through the process of explaining his _numerous_ background checks on the multiple ex-wives as they made their individual re-appearances. Somehow he didn't think, despite his reluctant acceptance of a few personal questions, that Gibbs would take too kindly to him point-blank admitting to what he did.

"Yeah, well….._someone_ did." Gibbs muttered darkly, his eyes glazed over with the physical pain. Though he'd been checked over for a concussion after Tony had found him, the intensity of the migraine he was currently witnessing worried him.

"McGee doesn't count Boss." Tony said a little breathlessly, stopping the motions of his own hand as medical terminology ran through his head. From what he could tell in the dark, Gibbs' right eye was drooping fairly drastically now.

He wasn't really paying that much attention to the conversation anymore, only enough to infer who had really thought something had happened. The only other person who had been there according to McGee, had reacted fairly strongly to the sight before them.

"She thought…" Was he imagining things, or could he hear a slur in his voice? Still, Gibbs didn't finish his sentence, and Tony didn't think it was because of any…_physical_ pain.

He gulped down any meaningless words he might've wanted to say. And did what he did best….played his role, act out his part, be the good SFA that he'd been perfecting for so many years now.

He changed the subject, to the only other thing he could think that would've been relevant in the moment. Tony let his head fall back against the wall, mimicking the other man's position as he stopped the useless massage. With an audible tiredness in his tone, he asked-

"So why can't I be there?" It wasn't as if he was actually going to listen to him or anything. Gibbs could order him until he was blue in the face-he wasn't backing down this time.

He'd backed down, allowed himself to be put off, too many time in the past. And look where they were now. So many hits and misses…..one day _(one day soon he feared)_ one of those hits would land solidly, and Gibbs wouldn't be getting back up after it.

"I know how he's," the older man spat the word_ he._ As if Mishnev wasn't classed in the division of a _human,_ let alone a _he._ Tony, personally, was fine with it. After what he'd done, he didn't deserve a damn thing-let alone any decency towards him. "….thinking." Gibbs finished eventually.

_'No,'_ he wanted to argue back, _'You don't. You don't know what he's thinking. You don't know the moves he'll make next. Don't place yourself in the same category as that monster. You aren't him, you aren't anything like him. Don't say that. Please, please, don't say that.'_ Tony wanted to plead with him, tell him that that wasn't true. But he swallowed the words weakly. Logically, even if he didn't like it, he knew that Gibbs was maybe the best person to predict Sergei's next move.

Didn't mean he had to like it though.

"Yeah. So?"

"He's recreating…..murders from my past. Mike, Kate, Jen…,"

It him like a bolt of lightening. _How the hell…._How had he not realized it?! He-_the team_-knew that what Sergei was doing. Yet, it hadn't even occurred to a _one_ of them what would be the next step to come…

"You know what's next," Gibbs hissed, his eyes filled with memories from a past that went farther than Tony had been in his life. Tony nodded stoically, Gibbs wouldn't respect a show of emotion at the acknowledgement. Not pity_ (not that he would ever disrespect the older man that way),_ or even sadness. Not when a tragedy much more…._recent_ for him, deserved any and all of their sadness.

"Hmm. I do." Gibbs flinched minutely at his words, and Tony dutifully pretended not to notice. "I sill don't see how this necessarily goes hand-and-hand with me being locked up in a tower."

"Ducky," Boss said, for a moment Tony was baffled-over the years he'd learned just roll with it. "And Abby. In his mind, they're too much on the outside of things. Not in the center, not an importance, it ought to keep them out of the line of fire. Unless I bring them to his attention, they're safe."

Tony hummed noncommittally, it soothed him a bit. If Gibbs did think that Ducky and Abby would be safe this time, than that was good-_great_ even. He chose to accept the other man's theory so far.

Gibbs continued, "Bishop, she's too new. He won't go after her. If he wanted her to be involved in this….she would've been dead already." he said it firmly, the weight of his convictions behind the words. Tony did need him to voice the words that were unsaid between them.

The unsaid words meaning that if Mishnev had wanted to involve Bishop in this-then she would've been the one shot on that rooftop. It would've been the ultimate feat of tragic irony to lose Bishop in the same way they'd lost Kate-at the hands of a fanatic with a sniper rifle.

Bishop was safe….because _Diane_ was dead. Diane had been the one sacrificed on that rooftop instead.

Tony took a deep breath, feeling a dull ache in his side-bruised ribs then. The pain was sort of…_fitting_ for what he had to bring himself to say next. "How do you….How do you even know that he'll be coming after one of us? For all you know he could go after a another complete stranger again."

"Tony," Gibbs growled viciously. Tony had the distinct impression that if his words hadn't been said as utterly thoughtlessly as they had-then he would be on the ground again already. Only this time, Gibbs would be going for blood. "He went for…..He went after," it hurt to hear Gibbs struggle to phrase. Struggle to verbalize something that he hadn't had a chance to compartmentalize yet.

So Tony did what he always did; he took the words out of his mouth for him.

"I know Boss," he said as apologetically as he could; Gibbs wouldn't accept anything more. He hated that he'd had to bring that up, but if he was going to have a foot to stand on while fighting down Gibbs' stubborn resolve…..Then he had needed to make sure.

Gibbs turned away from him, looking back over at the two chairs and table. Looking back out over his playground, the room he couldn't loose in. Tony wondered, personally, if the other man had chosen this room for the confidence boost it was sure to provide.

Or maybe it was for the safety it provided. The security of privacy it granted him until his second in command came bumbling in.

"He made it personal. To him this is just one big game of chess, and I'm in check right now. His next move….will be his attempt at checkmate. And….he won't use McGee for it," right then was the first time that Tony felt a hint of…_doubt_ since Gibbs started voicing his theory.

"How can you be so sure Boss? He's got the years on the team, and he's pretty much in the center of this too."

"…..My gut," Gibbs answered slowly, and even though he wasn't even remotely close to looking Tony in the eyes. He could practically see the doubt creeping over every pore when he said the familiar words.

Gibbs was doubting himself. Okay then, that just made Tony believe in him even more. If Gibbs said his gut was sure of something, than he didn't doubt it. Not even the tiniest bit.

"And he's got my personal files. McGee may have the years on the team…..but he wasn't. McGee wasn't as deeply…._involved_ in the more _personal aspects_ over the years…."

_'Personal aspects,'_ the Reynosa cartel? Mike's death and the hunt for the P2P killer? Dearing? Hell, did 'personal aspects' date back further? Jenny's death? Gibbs coma? Kate's death? When he caught the plague and Gibbs went on a rampage? The hunt for Ari?

_Personal aspects….._personal aspects put it all in perspective for him in that moment.

The revelation should've been _groundbreaking._ It should've hit him as hard as the one about Shannon and Kelly had, or even harder in fact-his life was apparently endangered after all. Yet, he was strangely detached from it…._Not even that….._

He didn't _care._

He genuinely didn't give a damn that apparently a psychotic sniper was going to be gunning for him next. It wasn't denial, he didn't doubt Gibbs' gut anymore-or his theory. Faced with the evidence…._it made sense._

He just…_it didn't bother him._

And maybe that should have been the thing that worried him most of all. That when told he was the next intended target, his only reaction was to brush it off. To place it behind him because he honestly thought he had bigger worries at the moment.

The top of which was Gibbs' mental stability at the moment. He'd managed to catch his white whale once before, Tony couldn't go and get himself killed before they'd somehow managed to catch another. Luck didn't strike twice, Tony was absolutely, one hundred percent certain that his help would be needed on this one.

If he didn't want to be attending Gibbs' funeral next.

He had no doubt that Gibbs would take Mishnev down after what he'd done, but it was the means that worried him. Gibbs needed someone there to remind him that the world wasn't spinning to an end, and he couldn't put everything on the line just to get the end result he was after.

He was going to be there, beside his Boss until the end-_if_ it came to that. Even if some psycho wanted to apparently murder him in the same way two of the most important people in Gibbs' life had been tragically murdered.

It was set in stone, unchangeable. The only thing left to do was stop talking and make some progress towards the end goal.

He turned his face to the side, studying the profile of the man in front of him. He could feel the dried blood cracking in the contours of his face, and he had the strangest urge to laugh. Oh, what Katie must think of them now. Almost ten years later, and they were even more messed up than she had left them.

"Can't believe you actually talked to Rachel, Boss."

"Didn't," Gibbs snorted, "She told me the last time that she just writes down her observations in my file."

"That's dangerous. Now, I know where Kate got it from." He smirked, he did like Doctor Cranston. When they had time (and he wasn't missing portions of his memories) he _liked_ to talk to her. He liked for her to tell him stories (if he was lucky they were _hugely_ embarrassing ones) about a little Kate running around after her multiple brothers.

Tony was glad to see that Gibbs eyes were drooping less drastically now.

"You just now figurin' that out DiNozzo?" He drawled, turning to look at him. It was nice to see that there was a little less pain in his eyes, talking about a good memory. It had taken a long while, but Kate was something good. Something nice _(didn't mean it didn't still hurt like hell)._ He wondered when-_if ever_-the others losses would get to that point.

"Huh, guess I was a little slow on the uptake on that one Boss." Tony chuckled; then, with a little groan, he pushed himself up and off the wall.

Gibbs looked up from the ground at him. For a moment, Tony stayed there, just looking at him. Silently working up the stability he would need to do what he had to do next. With a deep sigh, he extended a hand down towards the older man-

He stared at it silently.

"C'mon Boss, can't stay on the floor all night. The others will be in the bullpen….So we'll go the third floor snack room. You can help me bully some of the accountant geeks into getting us some decent coffee. You look like you need it-screw doctor's orders."

After a tense moment…Gibbs smirked, and took his hand.

Tony hauled him up, wincing internally when he heard the cracking in the other man's knees. He was glad to note that though the pain was by no means gone from his features, it was a little less pronounced….._physical and otherwise._

Trusting in the sixth_ (seventh, eighth, ninth? How many other senses had he had to develop over the years to keep up with this man?)_ sense he had that Gibbs was following him; he carefully picked his way around the table and chairs. He didn't allow himself to hesitate before opening the door in front of them.

Maybe it wasn't the wisest idea, leaving the protection of their…._mutual_ sanctuary. Especially not when luck was running low and a man with a vendetta seemed to be coming to wreak individualized damaged on the both of them. Maybe it wasn't even the smartest idea to leave that darkened room when his face looked like he'd ran into a brick wall, and Gibbs' eyes were still pinched-on the verge of debilitating pain.

But they did anyway, because they both had things they had to do. People to protect. Secrets. Friendships. Relationships. Memories of people that were forever etched in their respective and mutual pasts.

Together, they had a past that need protecting.

As the door shut behind them, and the made their way for the nearest elevator. Tony thought of something.

"You know Boss, I never pegged you for a chess person."

"Oh 'M not. I hate chess," he said darkly, "Poker."

_'That's a shame Boss,'_ he wanted to say, _'Chess, you're good at it. Good at strategizing and planning-'_

_'He won't touch another one of your pieces.'_ He wanted to be able to promise with absolute certainty. He wanted, to turn the other man around; look him in the eye and tell him sincerely,_ 'You'll win this one Boss. You'll sweep the board with 'em.'_

Instead while they waited for the elevator numbers to ding steadily up towards their floor. He adopted his most innocent expression and said-

"Well what do you think about checkers?"

He could practically _sense_ that headslap coming before it tapped him softly on the back of his head. The added little fond pat on the back of his neck was just a plus.

* * *

_a/n: Like with most my Tony and Gibbs stories, I kind of left this was deliberately vague. So take what you will. You want slash, you want father/son, you want partners. I think you can take it however you want._


End file.
